


Flashes

by TaraLaurel1



Category: Four Brothers (2005)
Genre: Brotherhood, Brotherly Love, Brothers, Child Abuse, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Hurt/Comfort, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Rape Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-05
Updated: 2014-02-05
Packaged: 2018-01-11 07:34:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1170388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaraLaurel1/pseuds/TaraLaurel1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I ain't Ma. I ain't gonna hold your little hand. I'm gonna kick you in the - until what I want to hear comes out your mouth. It's called tough love… Deal with it or see what happens…" Jack's hiding something serious, from everyone. Time for a little intervention, Bobby Mercer style. Pre-Movie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Night had long since spilled out over the neighborhood. The streets were quiet, only disturbed by the sporadic few vehicles filled with those returning from a late evening of work, heading in for an entire night of work or swerving home from the bar. A few hoodlums, dealers and prostitutes peppered the roads. Some houses were alive and vibrant with parties or the screams of infants or quarreling couples. The light from television screens illuminated some homes.

The Mercer house sat comfortably amidst all of this, now dark and still after a day of lights and noise. Angel Mercer snoozed happily in a tangle of blankets while down the hallway the matriarch of the household tossed and turned as if sensing something amiss in her seemingly slumbering home. The last bedroom was void of light, sound, and its occupant.

Jack Mercer was perfectly silent and perfectly still, but he was very much awake, and very much not in bed.

Jack stood by the phone in the kitchen for some time. He wasn't waiting for a call. He wasn't pacing like he sometimes did when working up the courage to do something. He also wasn't fidgeting or beating a rhythm out on his legs as he tended to do when nervous. Jack just stood. His head hung low as his eyes studied the crème colored device as if it was a new concept. The blonde boy had been frozen there for almost an hour now and finally his fingertips twitched. His wrist twisted and with one final hand clenching of hesitation, Jack picked up the phone.

Each ring was like a chord of Jack's heart beating into the telephone lines. The shrill noise seemed to drag out longer than Jack could ever remember and it felt like a lifetime before a low voice came through the other end.

"Yeah?"

The sleep caked voice sent Jack back into his paralysis. He couldn't do this. His voice faltered and he almost dropped the phone back on the receiver when the familiar voice spoke again.

"Hello? Ma? What –"

"Bobby," Jack breathed, unable to say anything more.

"Jack? What's goin' on? Are you okay? Is Ma –"

"Bobby – I'm not – I don't –"

"Fuck, Jackie, spit it out. You're fucking scaring me here."

"It's not – we're all okay."

"Then what is it, Jack? It's damn near four 'o clock in the morning."

"I'm sorry, Bobby."

"Jack, if you're high or drunk or something right now, or callin' me to bail you out, I swear I will beat your ass."

"No – I'm not – I just –"

"Aw, fuck, Jackie," Bobby sighed and paused, "was it a damn nightmare?"

Jack was silent and he knew his older brother would take the lack of an answer as a 'yes'. Jack had lost all nerve. He couldn't tell Bobby what was happening. He couldn't tell Bobby anything. Letting Bobby believe it was all just a nightmare was better than the truth.

"Shit, Cracker Jack. You can't do this. You know I love you, man, but you ain't a kid anymore, Jack. I thought you were past all that, at least the nightmares. It's been years since your last one, I thought. Besides, Ma is there. So is Angel. I'm not always gonna be around for these things. Look, I got to get my ass outta this bed in less than two hours. Can this wait?"

"Whatever."

Bobby should have seen it then. The fully awake Bobby Mercer would have. The Bobby Mercer who was living at home and accustom to Jack's middle of the night awakenings would have. But this Bobby Mercer was coming off of a full day of practice and nursing a dislocated shoulder. In his haze of pain medication, beer and sleep, this Bobby neglected to sense anything off coming from his youngest brother.

Jack wordlessly clicked the phone back on the receiver and began the sleepy ascension up the stairs to his bedroom. He knew it was in vain. He knew no rest would come to that room tonight, or to him. He didn't bother turning on his light or even getting undressed. He merely sank into his bed, immersing himself in the covers and vague comfort.

The night rolled forward and now three Mercers spent the night in unrest. Evelyn was tossing harder than before. Jack was simply staring far away at his ceiling. And in another neighborhood altogether, Bobby Mercer listened to the echoing of his brother's voice in his head again and again as he silently and subconsciously muttered a prayer he had thought he had long forgotten.


	2. The Morning After

Jack sat on the couch lazily, barely paying attention to the channels he was flipping through or the mug of coffee in his hand. He was a coffee fiend compared to his brothers, but at this current time, Jack was thirsting for something quite different and the empty beer bottles hidden underneath the couch hadn't been enough.

He had gotten out of bed once more after only thirty minutes of intent ceiling staring and shuffled his way to the kitchen and then to the living room. He had listened, watched and been a part of Bobby doing the same thing in the middle night for so many years that he could maneuver throughout the entire house without making a sound. He had every squeaking step, creaking floorboard, and whining drawer memorized.

But now others in the house stirred about and his time of drinking the previous day away was cut short. Evelyn had already awoken, prodded her son in her own firm and loving way until she was satisfied, gotten ready and went to work. She was barely out the door when the last of the household finally greeted the day.

"Where's Sofi?" Jack asked casually as Angel came down the stairs.

"Shower," Angel nodded toward the ceiling. "And where is – " he trailed off and glanced around.

"Angela," Jack reluctantly finished for him. "She – uh – I didn't bring her home."

"I saw you bring her inside, idiot," Angel scoffed. "What the fuck did you do to screw it up?"

"Nothin'!" Jack shot off the couch in uncharacteristic anger but then just stood awkwardly with nowhere to really go.

"Get in a fight?"

"No."

"She say 'no'?"

"No."

"Well then, shit, maybe Bobby's been right all along and you do play for the other team." Angel chuckled and began to make his way to the kitchen.

"Just shut up," Jack spat with a venom Angel had never heard and stormed off, grabbing his coat.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" Angel turned around, his thoughts of coffee and scrambled eggs vanishing. "Ma ain't home to drive you anywhere and –"

"I'm going to Jerry's."

"What for?"

"To get away from you."

"Jack, sit your white ass on that couch." Angel stepped forward, a long index finger extended toward the piece of furniture. "Now."

Jack considered bolting but did not enjoy the idea of Angel hauling him forcefully back inside, having experienced it before. He complied, falling back into the cushions.

"Alright, Jackie-poo, spill. What's up your skinny ass?"

Jack again leapt from the couch and pushed Angel as hard as he could before swiftly telling his brother where to go.

"Look, Jack," Angel nearly barked, grabbing his brother's arm. "We can talk or I can beat whatever this is out of you."

"Don't fucking touch me!" Jack ripped away from Angel's grip.

There was a look in Jacks eyes that Angel hadn't seen since Jack was a small child when he first moved in with them. His blue eyes became clouded over with such a mixture of emotions that he looked like a scared, beaten, wild and raging animal all at the same time. He remembered those eyes. Jack took a few steps backwards and glanced away from his older brother.

"Shit, man, I thought you and me, we were past all that." Angel's voice was now soft, a fraction of the volume it had just been and laced with concern and hurt.

"Whatever," Jack mumbled. "Just leave me alone, man."

And that was when Angel knew this battle was over. Jack hastily stomped across the room and out the door, but not before flashing Angel that other look Angel knew so well. It was the dark gaze that told him Jack had shut himself down and off from everyone. It was the look he gave before not speaking for hours or days. Something seriously was wrong and Angel hadn't the slightest idea what it was. He was pulled away from his thoughts by the ringing phone. He barely muttered a 'hello' as he answered.

"Angel?"

"Bobby? Well, son of a bitch. Bobby Mercer callin' home. Mark your calendars and shoot off the fireworks."

"Shut up and just tell me how happy you are to hear my beautiful voice."

"What's up man? Something wrong? You don't do phone calls unless Ma begs you."

"She there?"

"Nah, she's at work. Been workin' a lot 'a Saturdays since she got stuck with this fucked up family with like eight kids or some shit."

"Is Jack home?"

"Am I not good enough to talk to? The little girl just ran out the door all worked up about who the hell knows what."

"Damn."

"What? You know something about the princess' latest PMS?"

"No. He called me and was upset 'bout something. I blew him off but – shit – I couldn't stop thinking 'bout it."

"Jack has issues. What's new?"

"You have your fair share of issues too, little brother."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. You really think somethin' is up with him?" Angel's voice was quickly losing all jesting nature and genuine concern was seeping through.

"Dunno. Just got this feeling I can't fucking shake, man."

"Shit," Angel collapsed into the nearby chair. " _That_  feeling."

Angel knew that feeling. It was the same feeling Jerry had when Angel was back to his old tricks on the street and in deeper than his pockets or charm could handle. It was the same sense Angel got when Bobby took some of his own medicine by being handed a cheap shot in a hockey match and was knocked unconscious for two whole days. Angel had been at work but somehow simply knew his brother was hurt. He called home to find Evelyn in the same panic, as she too sensed something was wrong. The five of them might not have been bonded by blood, but they were connected on another level that somehow seemed stronger.

"I think it's time for a little vacation," The eldest brother stated simply and Angel knew then that whatever Jack was dealing with was soon to be ripped into the open Bobby Mercer style.


	3. Visitor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: You meet Angela in this chapter. Yes, she is a bit cliché for a 'Jack' girl, but I didn't really work that hard on creating or developing her character to be honest. She is NOT going to become a main character (as this story is short anyway), nor will she be Mary-Sue, etc. She is merely a tool for the main plot of the story. I wanted this to be about Jack and what is going on with him, not some random girl. She is involved, of course, but barely. I also realize her name is similar to "Angel". That is on purpose. Though she is a minor character, I use her in several other OS and short stories that I have yet to post and the name is sort of a running gag.

Jerry stepped through the door and immediately spotted his target slouched over on the sofa. His guitar was in his lap and it looked as though he was replacing a string while absentmindedly watching television. A Trigonometry book lay open on the coffee table with a piece of paper Jerry assumed to be homework on top of it, untouched. Jerry silently surveyed the scene and then let his eyes hover on one item in particular. He nearly reprimanded him right then and there, but that would get him nowhere. That was the Bobby approach and even Bobby himself could barely make it work.

"Hey, little brother," Jerry announced his presence, as the banging screen door apparently wasn't enough to shock Jack out of his own world.

Jack shrugged a nod in Jeremiah's direction before mumbling a barely audible "Evelyn isn't here."

Jerry shook his head and let the other end of the couch swallow him. His suspicions were being validated in just a few seconds of being there. He had his first inclination when Jack suddenly came over the other day without warning. He was quiet and pensive, almost brooding in nature. He was short with Jerry and spent most of his time there with his newborn Daniela. He had said when she was born that he was going to make sure there was another musician in the family and had spent a lot of his free time playing the guitar and singing for her as stared at him or slept. He claimed he was getting her started early so that she would have an ear for music later.

Jack's cell phone had gone off three times while he was there and eventually Jack had silenced the device and conveniently 'forgotten' about it in the bathroom. Jerry found it and didn't mention to Jack how many times he had watched the name 'Angela' light up on the screen.

Then, of course, there was the call from Angel warning Jerry of Bobby's upcoming 'vacation.' Evelyn even stopped by to see the baby, say hello and not-so-discreetly discuss the youngest Mercer.

"Can't a man stop by to say 'hi' to his brother?" Jerry retorted.

"I guess," Jack mumbled, still not looking away from the television or guitar.

There was an elongated, unnatural silence that filled the room as Jerry contemplated a possible conversation game plan.

"So ," Jerry started, "since when did you turn 21?"

Jack finally cocked his head towards his brother. He glanced from the drained bottle of beer on the table to Jerry.

"I didn't steal it," Jack explained apathetically. "It's from Bobby's old stash. Not like he's here to miss it."

"Is that what this is all about?"

"What  _what_ is all about?" Jack questioned offhandedly.

"This. This attitude, Jack. The not talkin'. Something's wrong. Mom knows it. Bobby knows it –"

"Bobby doesn't know shit. Bobby doesn't care."

"What are you doin' man? What's goin' on?"

"Nothin' Jerry," Jack pushed himself off the couch. "I got to go. Meeting some friends."

Before Jerry could argue, Jack was out the door. The older brother just shook his head and sighed, picking up the empty beer bottle. He saw others placed on the floor and swore. Jerry collected the glass bottles and promptly recycled them, not desiring to make Evelyn do it and see how much Jack had consumed. This was getting beyond frustrating. Jerry was ready to search Jack's room when there was a sharp knock on the door. He figured Jack forgot something and locked himself out. As he pulled open the door, it wasn't his youngest brother staring back at him.

"Uh – hi," the visitor started hesitantly, "is Jack here?"

Her hazel eyes held confusion and hope at the same time. She tucked a piece of her auburn locks behind her heavily pierced ear as she shuffled her battered black slip-ons against the cement. Jerry quickly noted the Ramones shirt and distressed denim cut offs that apparently had been drawn on with red marked. She definitely fit Jack's circle, even if Jerry was surprised there were other people in Detroit in that circle.

"No, he's not," Jerry sighed. "Sorry."

He went to close the door but she suddenly stopped him with a slight push.

"You're one of his brothers, right?" She questioned softly.

"Yeah. I'm Jerry –"

"Is he okay?"

"Huh?"

"Jack. How is he? I – I'm just worried about him. I know it's stupid."

"Are you – Angie?" Jerry questioned, realization hitting him.

"Angela," she corrected.

Jerry nodded. He had heard Jack drop the name a time or two and recalled his mother being upset over a phone bill regarding calls to this same girl.

"He didn't tell you, did he?" She shook her head with a thin frown. "I bet he didn't even tell you we were together. We broke up. Well – technically – he broke up with me. Dropped me without a damn reason or anything. Let me tell you something; your brother has a shitty way of dealing with problems. I was so pissed at him. Then, he stops showing up to band class and practice. I figured he just didn't want to be around me or something stupid like that. Maybe he didn't want to see my face or have the damn backbone to look me in the eye. That was perfectly fine because I didn't want to see him either. He broke my fucking heart, you know? So I finally got tired of the damn game and asked his friend. He fucking dropped band! The one class he actually gave a shit about and he goes and drops it. He won't answer my phone calls and every time I see him, which is pretty much damn near never, he avoids me like I'm a cancer or something. Jack," she sighed, her tone softened and her pace slowing, "Jack was the only one at school – I mean – we were – the same, you know? We weren't just some fling of the week. We were best friends. Damn it, I loved that stupid – look, I'm not some naïve girl with damn rose colored glasses and thinks true love and happy endings actually happen. But whatever we had was different. I know it. And now he's acting like I don't exist. I just want to know that he's not doing drugs again or something stupid or dangerous and that it's just him being a dick. That doesn't even make any sense. And here I am telling you all this shit. Great. I must sound like a psychotic bitch. I should go."

"Hey," Jerry started before she could walk away, "whatever my idiot little brother is going through or doing to himself or whatever this is, it ain't you. You care about him a lot to not give up. Thanks."

"Just," she shook her head with a loud breath, unsure of the right words to say, "bring him back, okay? You're his brother. You know him better than me, I guess. Wherever he is in that head of his, please, bring him back."

Jeremiah nodded and Angela turned and headed down the driveway. Jerry felt as though a big piece of the Jack puzzle had just been dropped right into his hands.


	4. The Prodigal, the Boy and the Christmas Tree

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Here's Bobby…Oh and FYI "Jack Flash" is a mixture of Jack Daniels whiskey and Red Bull if you are confused later. Does that give you a hint to what's going to happen for the eldest Mercer's homecoming?

At first Bobby thought there was an intruder in his mother's house, which struck him as ironic considering by all rights he was too breaking and entering. He wasn't surprised to find Evelyn had removed the hidden key to the front door considering their neighborhood.

The illumination from the Christmas tree provided Bobby with just enough vision to maneuver undetected. Years earlier, he would have been able to move about the entire house blindfolded without making so much as a peep. It had been awhile and Evelyn did have a tendency to have to invest in new furniture quite often with her sons around. He wondered if the happily glowing tree was a sign of how this little intervention would end, or if coming home to a burglar was an omen to turn back now.

As he padded slowly through his mother's home towards the disturbance, Bobby let his hand hover over the metallic object in his waistband. He stealthily slipped into the kitchen and nearly pulled it out before realizing who the hunched over form was. Bobby was going with omen.

His youngest brother was kneeling on the floor, rummaging around behind the microwave cart. There was a small crawlspace for storage in the wall, concealed by a panel that matched the wallpaper. The contents of that crawlspace had been hidden in there by Bobby for years while Evelyn dutifully feigned ignorance.

"Well, well," Bobby chuckled deep and menacingly. "If it isn't Little Jack Riding Hood. I think someone's been drinking my beer."

Jack was on his feet in an ungraceful start before Bobby even finished his joke. The youngest Mercer's eyes lit up momentarily at the sight of his big brother but then darkened. Bobby frowned as Jack seemed to be having a problem steadying himself on his own feet.

"You know Ma knows 'bout that, right?" Bobby cocked an eyebrow.

Jack didn't offer a verbal response. He merely turned around and began sliding the panel back into place clumsily, but not before pulling something else out.

"You know Angel will just pick you up a case if you give him money."

Again, Jack was silent. Bobby's face drew downward. His worries, along with those of the rest of his family, were quickly becoming validated. He didn't want to see Jack like this again. He couldn't let him fall back into the black hole Evelyn had found him drowning in.

"What," Bobby fronted, "no 'hi', 'missed you', none of that chick shit you like so much?"

"What are you doing here, Bobby?" Jack finally spoke, leaning unsteadily against the counter with crossed arms.

His voice was deeper than Bobby remembered. The phone didn't do the kid justice. Bobby bit back emotions as he slowly realized he was missing much more than this current Jack problem; he was missing him grow up.

"I was in here ready to pop a burglar in my Ma's house that turned out to be my idiot brother."

"What are you doing  _here_ , Bobby?" Jack repeated coldly.

"If you haven't noticed, Jackie, Christmas is this week. I come to claim all my presents."

"You don't  _do_ Christmas, Bobby," Jack hissed and slightly wavered in speech and stance.

"So I missed my family?" Bobby shrugged. "Can't a guy come home to see his mom and brothers for Christmas? As much fun as rum eggnog drinking contests are with the team, I thought I'd grace all of you with my presence this year."

"Aren't we so lucky?" Jack rolled his eyes.

"Okay, Cracker Jack, bedtime. I need some damn sleep and by the smell of your breath and the looks of it, you've already put away half a case in the last hour or so. And I'm guessing something a little harder before that? And fruity shit too, you fairy. That means no more for you, Jack Flash. Come on, up to bed before I drag your underage, smashed, ass up there myself."

"You're not – you left." Jack said defiantly, but disjointedly. "You're not in charge."

"Well, I'm back and I am."

As if to prove his point, Jack quickly swung back the bottle in his hand, drinking a fair amount, as well as spilling just as much, before Bobby ripped it away. The eldest brother looked at the bottle and sighed. Bobby mentally cursed at himself for his stash of whiskey that had been behind the beer. The eldest Mercer found himself disconcerted at how easily his little brother downed the potent liquid. Swallowing a sigh and his emotions, Bobby turned back to Jack, who was nearly falling over now.

"Alright," Bobby sighed, "Come on, Jackie."

Bobby pulled his inebriated brother under his arm, but Jack pushed away. His feet tangled and again he almost met the floor. Bobby caught him and held tighter this time.

A wave of laughter suddenly broke through Jack's throat as they neared the stairs.

"Jack, I swear, if you wake up Ma," Bobby warned as Jack slipped on the first step. "Alright, that's enough. I can't carry your stupid, jolly green giant ass anymore. What the hell happened? You used to be so damn little. Come on."

Bobby led Jack to the couch where the youngest Mercer collapsed haphazardly into the cushions. He squirmed like a disobedient child as Bobby draped a blanket over his thin frame.

"It's never gonna stop," Jack groaned sleepily.

"What's never gonna stop?" Bobby prompted curiously; hopeful that dealing with drunken Jack might be worth it if he got answers.

"They're always there. It's always there. I'm not  _good_ , Bobby." Jack's face was so serious it broke Bobby's heart.

"Shut up, Cracker Jack. 'Course you are."

"Not  _better_ ," Jack mumbled. "It's all the same. Nothing changes."

Bobby waited for more but Jack merely closed his eyes and wormed his way farther underneath the blanket he had earlier been protesting. Bobby was about to turn away when a small voice stopped him.

"I'm tired, Bobby."

"I know," Bobby ruffled his brother's hair, knowing all too well that Jack wasn't talking about lack of rest. "Sleep tight, Jackie."

Bobby sighed and shuffled his way over to the chair in the corner of the living room. He could go upstairs and take his old bed seeing how its current owner had taken up residence on the couch. Still, the eldest Mercer knew he wouldn't be granted rest tonight, nor did he desire to leave his brother's side. So he sat in the now dim and somber light of the Christmas tree, staring intently at the slumbering sixteen year old, wondering exactly what was going on behind those closed eyes.


	5. Homecoming

Jack didn't talk about the previous night and Bobby didn't ask. The eldest Mercer wasn't even too sure that his brother remembered any of it. The youngest Mercer had spent the night nearly ripping apart the couch as he tossed, turned, kicked, punched and pulled. Bobby spent the night making sure Jack didn't seriously hurt the couch, or himself. Granted it could have been the access of alcohol, but Bobby was now pretty certain that the nightmares were back and in full force. Still, Jack didn't scream. Jack never screamed and Bobby thought that was the scariest part.

Jack had awoken to the appalling aroma of frying eggs, courtesy of Bobby. The older brother merely shook his head as he listened to Jack heave into the trashcan.

If drunken Jack was no fun, hung over Jack was even worse. Moody turned into broody which quickly accelerated to animalistic anger. After several more tricks and jests from Bobby, the boy carried himself up to his bedroom and locked the door.

As if on cue, the rest of the house stirred. Evelyn greeted her son warmly and with a hug that Bobby would have allowed no other person to give him for so long. She fussed over him for a shorter time than usual and then left, warning her eldest to not disappear before she returned. His mother was off to a brief meeting and then back to spend the entire day in the kitchen as she made Christmas dinner for just about the entire neighborhood, and then some, not to mention having four boys who ate like a small army. Angel was up in the dining room with a cup of coffee in hand when Jerry slipped in the back door. Angel was barely awake when he saw Bobby and had given him grunt and a grin. Jerry, on the other hand, was somehow wide awake already and slapped his older brother across the shoulder before pulling him into a quick embrace.

"What's up, man?" Jeremiah's smile and volume was too much for Angel.

"Would you keep it down in there?" He groaned. "Some of us aren't into this crack 'a dawn, catchin' the worm shit."

"Ah, quit your complaining, little brother," Bobby brought his own morning beverage, a beer, into the dining room. "Whatever La Vida Loca did to keep you up last night and how you feel this morning is nothin' compared to me or Jack."

"Where is he?" Jerry glanced around for the missing fourth piece.

"Upstairs," Bobby nodded to the ceiling, "sleepin' off what I'm guessing is one bitch of a hangover."

"Jackie-poo could never hold his liquor," Angel snorted.

"And when was the last time you saw him drinking?" Bobby questioned accusingly. "'Cause I got a fucking front row seat last night. Ain't pretty. And believe me, the amount of shit Cracker Jack pounded back would knock you both on your asses – and then some."

"He get pretty messed up?" Jerry's tone was nowhere near joking.

"No," Bobby shook his head, "and I think that's what scares the shit out of me. He got a little lopsided toward the end and said some weird ass shit before passing out, but the Jack I fucking remember couldn't hold down one beer."

"The last time you saw him drink was when he was twelve and you snuck it to him," Jerry reminded him. "He's sixteen now."

"Are sixteen-year-olds supposed to be drinking like dumbass frat boys?"

"We did," Angel shrugged.

"Yeah, we did," Bobby nodded in agitation, "and we were stupid. And we weren't Jack. He can throw back a few, I'm not sayin' that he can't. I'm the last person to say that, but Jack's not like us. He's got problems."

"And we don't," Angel scoffed.

"Jack's got  _dependency_  problems, you moron."

"You steal that word from Mom?" Jerry cocked an eyebrow.

"Maybe," Bobby spoke quickly, "but that just makes it true."

"It's alcohol," Angel rolled his head back, "it's not like it's –"

"What?" Bobby slapped the table, the banging almost as loud as his voice. "Drugs? Oh, he's not shooting up anymore so it's no big deal? Is that it?"

"I didn't say that, Bobby." Angel's tone rose to rival his brothers.

"It doesn't matter if it's fucking crack or heroin or whiskey or fucking candy bars! Jack uses – and then he abuses. It's bad enough we don't bash his dumbass skull in for smoking those damn cigarettes. Jack is  _dangerous_. Or have you forgotten when you and me, Angel, had to drag his tripped out ass home from some crack house? Or, this one's  _great_ , the time Ma found him in the fucking bathtub, O. and not breathing? Sure, it's just alcohol. It's normal. Not for Jack. How long until he gets fucking alcohol poisoning, or we're watching our baby brother get his fucking stomach pumped -  _again_ , or hauled away in some damn ambulance? I didn't come back here for that."

"What are we supposed to do?" Jerry sighed, sliding dejectedly into a seat.

"We figure out what the hell is causing all of this shit. Jack's drinking habits are a fucking serious issue, but they're not the problem. We crack down on him for that, and he'll just find something else. We need to figure out what the fuck is going on."

"Bobby," Jerry sighed, pushing his winter hat off his head and picturing the girl on their doorstep, "I think there's something you should know."


	6. Little Talks

Bobby was ready to make a house call the moment Jerry finished telling him about Angela. If anyone knew what was going on with his baby brother, he reasoned it would be her, and if she was the cause, well, Bobby could handle her easily. Jerry convinced him otherwise, and in the end, Bobby knew Jeremiah was right. The entire Mercer household knew that dealing with Jack required a different approach than how they handled the other brothers' problems. They all had their trust issues, but if any one of them went behind Jack's back and talked to this girl with such motives, Jack would be cut deeper than they knew. It would merely push the troubled teenager farther away they might never discover what was truly going on. It was difficult enough to get Jack to converse about anything on normal terms. It would be near impossible if he was purposefully not speaking to them out of betrayal, hurt or anger.

Evelyn returned shortly after Bobby had been talked down and her presence helped stabilize the household. Jack eventually slinked downstairs and slipped into the kitchen before any of the brothers could open their mouths. The day progressed and Bobby merely waited, quite impatiently, for the opportune moment to strike as he sat with his eyes glued to the television, but his mind elsewhere. Angel left after about an hour of eavesdropping on his mother and little brother as he had promised, and now regretting doing so, to meet Sofi's parents at a holiday family gathering they were hosting. He suffered a few quips from Bobby but then cut the jesting short with a hard look. Bobby and Jerry agreed to his demand to call him if they found anything out and needed him. Jerry, on the other hand, was giving Camille time with her mother as they were spending the day baking cookies together. In reality, they had eagerly pushed him out the door after he burnt two batches in a row.

The two brothers were in the middle of catching up when Evelyn summoned them to the kitchen to help transport several baskets of baked goods for local shelters to her car.

"Is Angela still coming over for dinner for Christmas Eve?" Evelyn questioned casually as she stirred another round of ingredients and her sons entered the kitchen.

Jack nearly dropped the apple he had just scooped out of the fruit basket and glanced at his family. Jerry and Bobby were sharing their own knowing, yet curious look. Apparently, momma's boy Jack had not even broken the news to Evelyn, Bobby thought internally.

"Uh," Jack fumbled to put the piece of fruit back, "We – uh – broke up. I mean, I broke up – with her."

"Oh," Evelyn frowned, "that's a shame. I liked her. Such a nice young lady." Evelyn stopped there and continued to bake in silence.

She knew pressing her son would only push him away, especially under the eager eyes and hungry ears of his brothers. She also knew full well that the two had separated weeks ago but had been waiting for Jack to make the first move in the conversation. Her seemingly normal inquiry of dinner was merely Evelyn gently forcing her son to finally admit it to her.

"Christmas Eve dinner," Bobby whistled and raised his brow dramatically. "Sounds serious. Must be to get that invite."

"Bobby, leave your brother be," Evelyn warned in that tone of hers.

"I'm just curious, Ma," Bobby grinned mischievously, yet secretly feeling guilty about openly disobeying his mother. "So, Angela? A little close to 'Angel', don't ya think? Isn't it weird banging someone with such a similar name as your own brother's? Then, you might be into that, Jackie. Hope you never screamed the wrong name –"

"Bobby Mercer!"Evelyn snapped in that voice that was yelling without actually hollering. "That is enough!"

Evelyn's interruption had come too late as Jack was already stomping out of the kitchen. Evelyn shot her eldest son a look that did not need words as Jerry nudged him disapprovingly.

"I got this," Bobby stated simply and exited, following his teenage brother.

Everything was working perfectly in the scheme only Bobby would have thought up. The youngest Mercer had been hiding in that kitchen with Evelyn all day, and not because he secretly enjoyed cooking and backing, which he did, or because he was hiding from Bobby's hangover antics, which he was. She was his shield. It had always been Jack's escape route to tail Evelyn like her shadow when he wanted to avoid confronting one of his brothers. Bobby was at least slightly pleased that some things hadn't changed while he was away. The only way to separate Jack from Evelyn was for one of them to go to the bathroom, Evelyn to go to work, or Bobby to thoroughly enrage Jack. Jack's tactic was always to avoid, run, or hide. If using Evelyn wasn't working to deter whatever it was he was avoiding, he would bolt. That, and the fact that Jack didn't want to say anything in retaliation in front of their mother.

Bobby could hear the muffled melancholy tune as he ascended the stairs and padded towards his old bedroom. He was half surprised Jack hadn't taken off out of the house entirely as he used to. The plan still worked in those days as Jack usually didn't get too far before Bobby found and confronted him. He thought his rapping against the door was being purposefully ignored until a mumbled 'go away, Bobby' came from inside the room. Bobby merely shook his head and entered without invitation.

"Now, when has that ever worked?" Bobby teased.

Jack sat on his bed, pushed up against the wall so his feet hung over the side. He strummed a few chords and then quickly scribbled inside a small notebook that was lying open next to him.

"You writin' love songs to you boyfriends, Jackie?" Bobby questioned. "When did you become a full on freakin' musician? Last time I saw you with that thing, you could barely play the beginning of 'Hey Jude'."

"Last time?" Jack huffed, obviously attempting to suppress rage. "Last time you were heard me play, I was thirteen and you were only here for a week during one of your damn suspensions."

"Whoa, hey, don't get your panties all in a bundle there sweetheart. Can't a guy give his brother a compliment?"

"You? No. And  _that_ was supposed to be a compliment? You might want to work on your delivery, Bobby."

Without another word, Jack went back to his music with intense focus, signaling he was done with the conversation. Bobby, though, wasn't. He stepped away from leaning against the threshold and shut the door behind him. Jack glanced up as he heard it close and glared in annoyance, confusion and anger at this eldest brother; though the back of his mind went reeling to a faded memory that he desperately pushed away, praying Bobby didn't see it playing behind his eyes.

"What?" Jack snapped sharply, trying to hide the unnecessary fear.

"What you mean, 'what'? You know damn well what."

"Subtle." Jack murmured crossly.

"I ain't gonna beat around the fucking bush the whole damn time I'm here. Either you tell me what the fuck is going on with you and where all this teen angst, I-hate-the-world-and-my-family-attitude bullshit came from or I'll have to find out on my own, using my own methods."

"I ain't talking to you about this."

"Why not?" Bobby demanded, congratulating himself on at least getting his brother to admit, if not by accident, that there was, in fact, a problem.

"Because! You're my brother – and – I can't."

"Want me to bring Ma into this? She's worried about you, Jackie. You like givin' her gray hairs?"

"Don't do that. Don't you fucking do that. Don't bring her into this."

"She's already in it, Jack. She knows something's wrong. She's our mother. Would you rather me drag you downstairs and make you discuss your new lifestyle choices and attitude with her?"

Jack merely slouched and shook his head.

"Then how 'bout this Angela, huh? How's 'bout I go talk to her?"

Jack slammed the guitar on the bed and leapt up, as if to verbally, or quite possibly, physically attack Bobby. He opened his mouth and then snapped his jaw shut suddenly. Turning around, Jack crossed his room to the window.

"Whatever, man," Jack's voice was deeper and calmer than it had been, and for Jack, that was far more dangerous.


	7. Sex, Love and Violence

_"Then how 'bout this Angela, huh? How's 'bout I go talk to her?"_

_Jack slammed the guitar on the bed and leapt up, as if to verbally, or quite possibly, physically attack Bobby. He opened his mouth and then snapped his jaw shut suddenly. Turning around, Jack crossed his room to the window._

_"Whatever, man," Jack's voice was deeper and calmer than it had been, and for Jack, that was far more dangerous._

"So it  _is_  this chick that's doin' this to you – messin' you up in the damn head? What'd the bitch do?"

"Don't call her that," Jack hissed protectively.

"So, Cracker Jack still has feelings for the girl."

"Shut up, man."

"Defensive, protective, brooding. Could our little Jackie be –  _in love_?"

Jack hesitated a beat before separating the blinds with his fingers to peer out and sighed.

"Love is just an illusion," Jack whispered, mostly to himself. "It's not real. No matter how you feel."

Bobby was taken aback by his brother's suddenly dark persona and deep words.

"Song lyrics," Jack quickly and quietly explained, nodding towards the notebook.

"Right," Bobby nodded slowly, " _just_  song lyrics. I think we both know that they're not. Talk to me, man. Get whatever the hell this is off your damn chest and mind so we can figure this out and so you can go back to quiet brooding Jack instead of annoying as fuck, bitchy brooding Jack."

"You're a real motivator, Bobby. You'd make a  _great_  counselor."

"I ain't Ma. I ain't gonna hold your little hand. I'm gonna kick you in the ass until what I want to hear comes out your mouth. It's called tough love, brother, and that ain't no damned illusion. Deal with it or see what happens when I go and find Angela."

Jack was silent then. He kept his gaze out the window, running his fingers across the dust that he had let accumulate on the blinds. He pulled his hand back absentmindedly and stared at his new discolored fingertips. Brushing it off on his pant leg, Jack cleared his throat and closed his eyes.

"I – I'm having – flashes, Bobby," Jack was nearly inaudible as he ran a trembling hand through his mop of hair.

"I can't help you with your menopause, Jackie," Bobby rolled his eyes.

"Fuck you. You know what I'm talking about."

"Yeah," Bobby sighed uneasily, "but, Jack, man, it's been years.  _Years_. I thought that all stopped."

"It never stopped. The nightmares, the flashes, the memories. They're there, Bobby, all the time. I just deal with them better than I used to. But – now – this – I can't get it out of my head." Again, his fingers found his hair.

"What's goin' on Jack?"

"Angela – she – damn it, Bobby. I can't talk about this with you." This time both hands went to his head, grabbing strands and pulling.

"You get that girl pregnant?" Jack just shook his head as his brother was simply not understanding. "She give you AIDS or some shit like that?" Again, no verbal response. "She fuck around on you?" Another head rattle. "Help me out here, Jackie. How long she been your girl?"

"She's not anymore."

"You know what I mean, smartass."

"Tomorrow – tomorrow woulda' been three months."

"Damn, kid. My longest I've ever been able to hang onto a chick is like three weeks, tops. How'd you meet her? One of you gay concerts you run off to that you think Ma doesn't know about?"

Bobby wasn't one for small talk or sharing feelings, but knew the only way Jack would talk is by starting small and casual and building from there.

"A party," he mumbled.

"Party? What kind 'a party?" Bobby asked with an accusing edge to his tone.

"Just a party, man. Nothin' illegal. She recognized me from school. That was last year."

"She run straight?"

"Straighter than you."

"Ma likes her," Bobby said, ignoring the jab.

"Yeah. Teachin' her how to cook. She, uh – she don't have a mom anymore and her father isn't around much so she came over here a lot."

"Man, and I thought you were the only fairy-ass-rocker-kid in this city," Bobby shook his head.

"She sings," Jack said suddenly, both brothers surprised at the volunteered information. "She's good."

"Well, I bet you two just make the cutest damn couple then," Bobby ribbed.

"We're not together anymore, Bobby," Jack reminded him again.

"Oh, Jackie. You don't know how wrong you are, kid. Jerry told me she been callin' you and that she came here the other day lookin' for your sorry ass, all torn up too. You – you're walkin' 'round like the world's biggest bitch and lockin' yourself in your room writing fucking anti-love songs. You're together. You just don't know you are."

"Doesn't matter. I don't want to be with anyone."

"Jack, please don't tell me you're a fucking eunuch."

"Why does everything have to be about sex with you?" Jack suddenly hollered.

"Well, considering that little reaction of yours just now, I'd be putting all my money on that whatever the hell you're avoiding talking about  _is_ about sex."

Jack again fell dead silent and spun around, but with nowhere to run or hide now. There was no way Bobby was letting him through that door and trying to climb out the window was both pointless and childish.

"I think we have a winner," Bobby announced dramatically.

And then, Jack snapped.


	8. Proud

_And then, Jack snapped._

"Fuck! Fuck you! Shut up! Shut up! Just. Shut. The. Fuck. Up. Bobby!"

Jack was lunging at his brother now, but being restrained quite easily. He managed to get a good right hook to Bobby's jaw but was grabbed around the waist and thrown to the floor before reaching the door.

"Will you stop acting like a fucking baby?" Bobby snapped hotly.

"Will you stop being a fucking ass?" Jack countered.

"Not a chance."

Jack jumped up and charged again for the exit, again being knocked back by Bobby. He didn't fall this time though and simply tried once more. The struggle lasted several minutes with the seemingly endless merry-go-round of Jack diving, kicking, or running for freedom, and Bobby swiftly and successfully blocking the attempts. Both were surprised Evelyn or Jerry hadn't come up to inspect the clamor. Of course, both brothers were attempting to stay somewhat discreet, their shouting and insults grinding through gritted teeth and hissing whispers. Bobby didn't need either of them interrupting the fight and ruining his plan and progress. Jack didn't desire anyone else joining the unwanted conversation. After Jack's skull-laden shirt was nicely ripped and Bobby's lip was heavily bleeding, the two finally pulled apart with a rough shove. Jack found himself on his floor once more and merely stayed there, only moving enough to prop up on his elbows. Bobby wiped his lip with his sleeve and cocked his head triumphantly.

"Are you done?" He demanded and Jack bowed his head in defeat. "I take that as a yes to the 'this is about sex', then?" He huffed.

Jack's eyes grew dim and he stared straight at the wall.

"I have flashes, Bobby," he repeated slowly from earlier through clenched teeth.

Bobby just stared down at his brother momentarily and then let his jaw go slightly slack as the sentence finally hit him, followed by understanding. He almost couldn't form words. He took a minute to contemplate and gather himself while Jack stayed stiff, eyes glued to that same spot.

"Have - have you two –" he trailed off and waited for the answer as he knew his brother knew the question.

Jack's hardened gaze fell to the floor as he shook his head slowly.

"Have you –  _ever?_ "

If Jack could have sunken into his carpeting and drown in it he would have.

"I – I've tried. Damn it, Bobby, I've tried. But – it took me almost a year to let Evelyn even hug me without seeing that son of a bitch and freaking out. I thought I was okay. Then – then I met this other girl about a year ago and – and we were kissing –  _fucking kissing_  – and I freaked. I was back at that place with that bastard. I tried to control it, ignore it. I got – almost – all the way with another girl but then I saw it. I just stopped trying, man. But Angela – she – she's different, Bobby. She's special and I really fucking like her and – I – it still –" he paused and sighed. "I thought it'd be different – that it'd be okay 'cause – 'cause of – I love her. It wasn't. I – I just left. I couldn't face her, Bobby. I can barely face my own damn self. What the fuck do you say? 'Hey, sorry. I was fucking raped by a fucking grown man repeatedly during my fucked up childhood and now I'm fucked up and when we're together I see him instead of you.' You were right, Bobby. You've always been right. I'm not a man. Not really. I'm just some weak, pathetic fuck up who can't even have sex with his girlfriend. And here I am coming at you with all this shit, cryin' like a damn woman."

Bobby hadn't even realized Jack had stood and then had been pacing while speaking until collapsing onto his bed during the outburst. He hadn't even noticed how his own fists were involuntarily curling inward. It took a moment for Bobby to find his voice as he attempted to take in the unusually high amount of words that had just erupted from Jack's mouth. No jokes ran through the eldest Mercer's mind. The only thing that Bobby could think or feel was rage. Rage towards the cowardly monster who had done this to his baby brother. He felt his face turning hot and focused on unclenching his fists and leveling his temper before speaking.

"Jack, look man, as much as I give you shit about being gay – I know you're not. You're my brother and I'd know. Believe me." Bobby waited for any sort of reaction, but received only the back of Jack's head as he turned away. "Jackie, come on, man, look at me right now. You need to listen to me, alright? Before you came here, all that shit that happened to you, that's over. You remember how Ma always talks about God? How she says He forgives us for our sins and all that? He wipes it clean, Jackie. You need to wipe this fucking clean. Everything that happened to you, everything that was done to you – it's gone. The minute you walked in that front door downstairs you became a Mercer. That broken little boy is gone. This is Jack Mercer. You. Right here in front of me. Jack, you are not weak or pathetic. You ain't a fuck up either. Period. If anyone is a weak, pathetic fuck up, it's the son of a bitch who did this to you. He's the problem, not you. Of course you're a man. Well, maybe not a man, but at least a boy."

"Gee, thanks."

"I'm just talkin' age here, Jackie. Now, if you look at all the shit you've gone through and beaten, then, yeah, fuck yeah, you are a man. You are a fucking man and you are in control of your life and getting fucking laid whenever the hell you want to. When those damn flashes or shit come at you, you remember that. You look at that girl and think only of her. And if that doesn't work, I'll have Ma put you're your ass back in therapy 'cause I ain't havin' no sexually dysfunctional brother."

"Shit, thanks, Bobby," Jack rolled his eyes.

"Hey, you know me. I got to look out for you – and your sex life. I always say I got to make a man outta' you. By the time I was your age I was banging chicks left and right. It wouldn't be right for me to let you live such a depressing life –"

"Too much information, man," Jack groaned and swatted at Bobby and turned back away.

"Okay, okay," Bobby resigned, "I'm serious now."

"You? Serious?"

"Come on, Jack. Really. You've been through more than most people go through in their whole damn lives. You are a man. You're one of the strongest men I know, Jack. I'm tellin' you the balls out truth here, little brother. What you're goin' through, man, I mean, it's normal."

"Yeah. Right. Normal." Jack hissed with bitter sarcasm.

"You know what I mean, smartass. So you got some issues from your past? Big damn deal. We all do. It ain't nothin' to be ashamed about and it sure as hell ain't worth scarin' your family over. If you're goin' through somethin', man, you bring it to me, you talk to me and you give all that shit to me. I don't care if I'm a hundred miles away, hung-over, in the middle of a damn game, or if it's the middle of the night or at the crack of fucking dawn. I'm your big brother. It's what I do. If you don't get the friendliest of hello's, well, I'm sorry. I really am, Jack. I should've been there for you with this. I should've made time on that damn phone call. That won't happen again. Now, you call me at four in the morning to ask what brand of mascara is the best, I'll beat your ass. But if it's somthin' serious, man, tell me. I'll drop whatever the hell I'm doin'. If you need me to be here, I'll be here. Hockey don't matter more than my family. Nothin' does. Now get your ass over here."

Without warning, Bobby pulled Jack up and into a firm embrace. They stayed together like that for some time until Bobby pulled away, playfully messing up Jack's hair in the process.

"We good, Cracker Jack?"

Jack simply nodded with one of his signature half smiles that seemed to always fade far too quickly.

"But, Bobby – what – what am I supposed to do?"

Bobby released a weighted sigh and let his weight collapse onto the end of the bed, where Jack joined him. They were silent for awhile as Jack ran his fingers through his hair to correct his brother's doing and Bobby searched for the right words.

"Well, how did you make it stop with Ma and the rest of us?" Bobby prompted.

Jack just shrugged and stared down as his socks, sliding his feet back and forth across the carpet. Bobby allowed the unresponsive moment as he saw Jack's eyes dancing with hesitant words behind them.

"I dunno," Jack finally admitted. "They just stopped. You guys all kept tellin' me I was safe and all that. Mom would take my hand or you would smack my shoulder and I would see – him – and lose it. I was waitin' for one you guys to finally hit me or something. After awhile, and seein' that when you guys touched me nothin' bad happened, I guess, I started to see him less. Then I stopped expecting the worst. But this is different. I can't just keep tryin' and not goin' through with it. How long is a chick gonna put up with that?"

"I think you need to talk to Angela."

"What?" Jack's eyes were saucers. " _You_ –"

"Yeah, yeah. I know.  _Me_  talkin' 'bout talkin' to women. Go figure. But, like you said, Jack, this is different. You said it yourself; you love this chick. That's some pretty strong ass language right there, kid. I'm not gonna say whether you do or don't or if you're just some hormonal teenager, but if  _you_ think you love her, then you got to talk to her. She obviously cares a hell a lot about you. You don't have to give her all the details right away. At least drop her a fucking clue. If she cares enough about you, which I know she does, then she ain't gonna run away. You talk, and then you work through it. You get past it, just like you did with us. Maybe you got to start simple, Jackie. I know it's embarrassing as hell, but you got to do it. Unless, you know, you  _want_ to go the rest of your male existence without being laid."

Jack let out a silent chuckle and Bobby smiled cockily. Sure, this wouldn't magically fix everything overnight, but it was a start. Jack admitting to the problem was probably the biggest step in all of it. It was like pulling teeth to get the youngest Mercer to actively converse about school or anything relatively normal, so this was a rare feat. Bobby could feel nothing but proud. He was proud of his family, of what they had accomplished over the years and how they were always there for each other. Evelyn, Jeremiah and Angel had all known something was wrong with Jack and none of them gave up. Studying the quiet amateur rock star, Bobby also was overwhelmed with pride for his baby brother, for how far he had come, how strong he remained through all of it, even if he did fall a time or two, and for what he had had the strength and courage to reveal that day. As Jack began properly putting away his guitar and muttered for them to go downstairs before Evelyn sent up the cavalry with a short laugh, Bobby couldn't help but grin. He knew what he had always known, since the first day the small, broken kid walked through their front door and through every storm they had weathered with him. Jack was going to be okay.

"Clean slate, alright?" Bobby patted his brother's shoulder.

Jack just nodded. It would take time, a lot of patience, and one very understanding girlfriend, but Jack would overcome this.

"Just don't tell Ma I used God to talk you into having sex, 'cause – yeah – that won't fly with her."

Jack cracked a grin finally and again nodded. With a sigh, the youngest Mercer went to leave the room, this time without a fight.

"Where you goin'?"

Jack stopped in the doorway and turned to face his brother with a knowing smile and a hopeful look in his eyes replacing the dark orbs he had possessed earlier.

"There's someone I need to call," Jack replied simply and exited the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: There you have it, folks. Another short little story for you all to enjoy. Oh, and by the way, I actually am a Christian. So, yeah…Bobby's views, are Bobby's views. Not mine. Lol. Also, I am not gay-bashing or anything with this story. I promise. Just because Bobby says Jack isn't gay, doesn't mean I am bashing. There. I think I got all of my possible-offending-people-stuff out of the way. Sorry if I did. Let me know if I did. I'll cry and then apologize and then beg for forgiveness. Okay, shutting up now.


End file.
